Eagle Eye
by SoaringGryphonProductions
Summary: An ex-US Military sniper Selina Wilson was chosen by a covert underground agency and turned into the ultimate weapon. Now considered to be one of the world's top female mercenaries, she is on assignment in Paris, and he target is Codename 'Noir', but what are her true motives? And could Mireille and Kirika benefit from her. Read to find out. 'Selina's Origin' coming soon.


**Noir- 'Eagle Eye'  
**

**(Before anyone starts complaining about my character's name saying 'How could Slade Wilson and Selina Kyle have a kid?' It's not like that, I just like the name. Anyway, I own no rights to this series. 'Noir' and it's characters are property of Bee Train. So without further adieu, let's get this story started. Enjoy ^^)**

**Chapter 1- Lethal Leather**

There is a soothing feeling when one touches the barrel of a gun. One has the power to alter lives, changing them with just a simple motion of the index finger. In a sense, it is the power of God in the palm of a hand. It is with this power that I found my skills in my profession. If you people have not figured it out already, I kill people.

I'm the kind of person people send on dangerous operations. I am the one who has to get my hands dirty so other people don't have to. At my mercy was a man named 'Gatineau'. I can see the fear in his eyes after I dealt with his men. Gatineau was running an underground prostitution ring until now, "Who...who are you?" He asked

He looked around at the dead bodies of his best men. These men he paid good money for their protection. It looked to be money not well spent. I only had a single round left in the chamber of a CZ SP-01 Phantom, one of two I usually carry around with me. I lightly shook my head at the men looking up at me, begging for his life.

"Your reckoning," I replied, and with that I put a 9mm bullet through his temple. I watched from the rooftops as the police recovered the bodies and freed the girls being held against their will. For months now, I had been tracking an organization called 'Les Soldats' and a codename 'Noir'. It seemed shady, then again I like the shade.

Now before you people start calling me a psycho or a villain know this. Each round I load into the chamber has a purpose, to take out the target. I do not kill indiscriminately. I will avoid killing innocent people at all costs. I keep the spent shells of each target I kill. Through secret government training, I was made to be a weapon.

My hands were trained to hold a rifle or a pistol as an extension of my body. I can use a blade with the precision of a surgeon's scalpel. My fists and kicks were made to expose your weaknesses, and break you. Don't bother hiding in a crowd. You can run, but there is no escaping from my sight. If you are my target, I will kill you.

Yet there was one, one target I granted mercy to. I was on assignment in Paris. I made my base in La Défense at the top of the Arc. I looked down at the people below in a prone position. As I loaded my Windrunner M98 rifle with a five round magazine, I could not believe what I was looking at. My target was a little schoolgirl.

With my left index finger on the trigger of my rifle and my hand firmly in it's grip, her eyes met mine. I saw something in her eyes. There was a feeling, a feeling of having nothing left to lose. When I saw her face, it was cold like a statue and I had a kill shot at her between the eyes. I knew then that this girl was special.

The destiny of all life in this world is death, yet suddenly my cellphone went off. "You won't shoot, Selina Wilson," she said calm and collected manner. She was looking away and looking toward the city. She was right, it just looked too easy. It also surprised me slightly that she knew my name. Her face seemed to match her look.

"How did you get this number?" I asked still aiming at her forehead. I knew in my mind that this was no ordinary girl. My trigger finger was anxious to take her out. I kept my composure from my position. My target was 1200 yards away. Even the best marksmen in the world couldn't hit a target from that kind of range with a pistol.

"It doesn't matter, I know you won't take the shot," She replied, I've played this kind of game before. I'm not letting this one get inside my head. I won't prove her wrong, but I will give her a warning not to screw around with the likes of me. I fired a warning shot into her right shoulder blade. I watched as she held back the blood.

"Fuck you, bitch, let that be a warning for you not to fuck with me," I replied back, keeping my composure even with my language. I packed up the rifle, and moved out into the night. I knew I would meet her again someday. This was the only time I have ever been merciful toward a target, and I feel like I am going to regret it.

In fact, the little girl was not my target, but a part of my plan to lure the real one out. The only thing to do now was wait. You see, I got you there. I know some of you were thinking the schoolgirl was the target. I'm tricky like that. A few days later, I was walking home that evening from the park when I heard light footsteps behind me.

I knew she would turn up sooner or later. I had my trusty SP-01 ready as I turned to face her with the barrel at her forehead between the eyes. She had a Walther P99 aimed at the same spot as me. "You have a lot of nerve shooting her in the back, I would have expected better from a professional," She said in a Corsican accent.

"It was the only way to lure you out, Mireille Bouquet," I replied back, she did seem to take too kindly to my words. We both moved up closer, "struck a nerve did I? There's no reason to cry over spilled milk, now drop the gun, or I give you another hole to breathe out of," slowly but surely, she pulled back her pistol, and so did I.

I made my way back to my apartment when she stopped me again, "Wait," she commanded, "You were the one with the 'Gatineau' assignment, tell me, who are you?" she asked, I turned to face her again. I had a feeling that Mireille was no different from me. I lightly smiled, somehow I thought she might be useful in the future,

"A weapon," I replied, and made my leave. I will meet her again. Where it will be I don't know, and how it might happen I don't know that either. I am firm nonbeliever in coincidence. Yet something told me that the rifle I keep in a suitcase may serve another purpose. As to what it maybe, I suppose that is up to me to find out.


End file.
